Holding On
by Mysterytay
Summary: Erik and Christine's interactions the night before he takes her to his lair.


**A/N: Hey, I'm finally writing for other fandoms. This is my first Phantom fic. I was inspired to write this after seeing this one vintage photo. I can't remember where I saw it, but it was of Michael Crawford, Sarah Brightman, and Andrew Lloyd Webber standing in front of the chandelier. Michael was in full Phantom costume, and Sarah was in her Hannibal slave girl costume. They were holding hands, and he had his arm around her. I wanted to write what the Phantom's interactions with Christine might be the night before the Hannibal performance, after one of the rehearsals.**

**This is based on the stage show, not the Gerard Butler movie. I will get hate for this, but I felt the 2004 movie was totally miscast. I wrote this with the OLC in mind. I put it on this page, because there isn't one for the stage show, just the 2004 movie and the book. I don't know why there wouldn't be one for _Phantom_ under the Plays/Musicals section. I personally see Michael Crawford as the Phantom/Erik, and Sarah Brightman as Christine, but you can imagine any actors you want. I will gladly accept helpful criticism on my writing, and whether or not I wrote them in character, but please, no flames because I hate the movie. I guess I've kept you long enough, here is my fic.**

_Holding On_

After another long day of grueling rehearsals for Chalumeau's _Hannibal_ at the Paris Opera House, M. Reyer, and Mme. Giry finally dismissed everyone. Sighs of relief were heard amongst the crowd on stage. The stage hands removed the props. La Carlotta had left early. She felt she had her part down to perfection, and didn't deserve to be kept so late, because of everyone else failing to keep up.

"Same time tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen," M. Reyer announced, raising his hand to get their attention. "We only have one more rehearsal, before the performance tomorrow evening."

While the Opera was clearing out, Meg Giry approached a tired looking Christine Daae, back stage.

"Christine!" Meg called to her friend. Christine's head perked up upon hearing her name. The girls were now standing side-by-side, both dressed as the slave girls. Meg had that look of I-know-something-you-don't. Her blonde hair looking ragged from dancing all day. She whispers excitedly, "Remember when I told you M. Lefevre might be retiring?" Christine nodded, and Meg continued in her sweet voice. "Well, mother has told me this is true. He has sold the Opera Populaire!"

"Sold it!?" Christine exclaimed, almost too loud.

"Shhh," Meg hushed her, gesturing for her to keep quiet. "Mother told me not to tell anyone. I suppose it doesn't matter, though. Rumors have been going around for weeks. Apparently two new managers will be arriving tomorrow, during rehearsals. I suspect the Phantom drove Lefevre off."

"Oh, Meg you shouldn't believe such silly things," Christine warned. She didn't want to believe in the Opera Ghost, but she couldn't ignore the strange things that happened at the Opera. She supposed she shouldn't judge Meg for believing in the Phantom, when Christine knew for a fact the Angel of Music was very real; although she dared not speak a word of it to anyone, for fear of being thrown into the insane asylum. Meg continued:

"Mother also told me that someone important will be at the performance. She won't tell me who, though. That woman can be so frustrating..."

The girls were startled by a loud bang. They turned around to find Mme. Giry standing behind them, her cane in hand(the source of the bang) She glowered down at the gossiping chorus girls. The color drained from Meg's face at the thought of her mother hearing what she said.

"Meg Giry, I've seen you slacking off towards the end," she scolded her daughter. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? And Christine Daae, where was your head today? I expect better discipline from you both tomorrow. You do realize the gala is tomorrow night?" They nodded, ashamed. "Go now, get plenty of rest. You will need it." With that she skulked off. Meg bid Christine good-bye, then she followed her mother, while Christine tiredly wandered to her dressing room.

She entered the room, and closed the door. Then she sat down at her desk. She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache forming. She had been missing her father more than usual today. She wondered if he would be disappointed that she was a mere chorus girl. He had wanted her to achieve great success. She so desperately wanted the lead role, but she knew she could never live up to La Carlotta. As horrid as she was, she was still the most talented prima donna Christine had ever heard. She knew she shouldn't allow such wicked thoughts of envy invade her mind, but she couldn't help it. She let out a sigh, and stood up. She was about to change out of her costume, when she heard a familiar voice sing out.

"Christine..." She obediently went to her full body mirror, where the voice had come. That voice always filled her with euphoric bliss, and when he was away she would give anything to hear it's unearthly beauty again. Every night she begged him to sing to her. She felt lost without him. She didn't know how she lived without the Angel of Music before, but should he choose to leave her for good, as pathetic it might be, she could not go on.

Although she longed to hear him, she was slightly apprehensive. Last time they spoke, he had been angry with her. Yesterday, after their own private rehearsal, she had asked to see the Angel's beautiful face, and his heavenly voice had turned to a cold, terrifying rasp. He had frightened her terribly. He yelled at her. He had told her she was not worthy of him, if she desired as any of the human race did. He sent her off, and she hadn't heard him since. Now the Angel spoke again: "You are ready."

"Ready for what?" Christine asked, confused. Her voice strained from utter exhaustion. She was surprised he sounded gentle. She was expecting more of his anger.

"To perform in the role of Elissa, my dear. You have improved, significantly."

"But Carlotta has the role of Elissa, even if she were to fall ill, I don't compare to her," Christine vented.

"So modest," the Angel stated. "I wouldn't let you perform if you were not ready, my child. Carlotta will not be singing tomorrow night." Christine shuddered.

"What do you mean?" She wondered, slightly afraid. She disliked the diva, but she would never wish harm on her, or anyone for that matter. "I don't know if I can take her role. The patrons will surely be disappointed to find that she's not performing. And I'm afraid I'm a little nervous."

"Do not worry, Christine. I shall take care of everything. All you have to do is sing, and keep me in your thoughts while you do so. I will be with you as long as you think of me. They will love you." Christine sighed, relieved that he had forgiven her, and happy that she will finally be getting a lead role. The thought that he would be there comforted her. She pressed her forehead on the mirror. The cool glass felt good on her headache. He began singing. Her eyes were stinging with tears at the angelic sound that filled her ears, and her soul.

...

Behind the mirror, Erik instructed Christine.

"You need rest," he said in a gentle tone. "I shall not force you to sing tonight. You appear exhausted, and you need to save your voice." When he saw her head resting on the glass, he decided not to push her. When she told him she was not as good as Carlotta, he found her modesty played another factor in why he loved her so much. But he knew she would amaze them; they would love her as he did. He had taught her well. He continued to sing to her, and she lifted her head, becoming trance-like. Her innocent, blue eyes grew wide, and glazed over. She raised her hands, and placed them on the glass. She leaned in closer, as he sang, searching the mirror with wonder for the source of his hypnotic song.

Erik knew what he was doing was wrong, but this was the only way. Night after night he shamelessly deceived her into thinking he was sent from heaven by her father. This was the only way she would love him. If she knew what he truly was, what he truly looked like, he knew she would turn away in fear, and disgust. She would hate him once she discovered her Angel was a horrible monster. That's why he nearly lost it when she requested to see him. He hated that he had to punish her; it tore him apart, but he did not want to think of what would happen should she ever see his face.

He loved her the moment he first heard her sing, the moment he first saw her, but after time, as he taught her to sing, he completely _fell_ in love with Christine Daae. He loved her innocence, her timidity, the clear, pure quality of her singing voice. He loved her naivety, her ethereal beauty, her childish manner. He loved everything about Christine.

He had planned to take her to his house on the lake after the gala, and reveal who he really was. He hoped she would love him in return, but if she did not, her voice would always be his. No one could take that from him. He had made it match perfectly with his own. _She will love me_, he thought. He desperately hoped she would.

He continued to sing until Christine was in a complete trance, her pale face fell tranquil, her big eyes looked in wonder. She was oblivious to the world around her. Only he existed. She was very child like, it's how he was able to deceive her so easily. He gazed on her beauty as he sung. He longed to hold her. To sweep her away from the cruel world he had come from himself. _Not until tomorrow night_, he thought. She must win over the people of Paris, first. Once he hears their thunderous applause, once they know his genius through her, his ingenue. When the time is right. Yet he still wished to hold her. His desire was so strong, he would surely lose what little sanity he had left if he could not take her in his arms, for just a few moments.

He slowly slides the mirror open, and stands before Christine finally, without a barrier. She merely stares at him, barely aware of what was happening. He apprehensively takes her small hand, his slightly trembling. She shudders at his cold touch, but remains still. She gently covers his own bony hand with her free one, not even knowing what she was doing. Her face calm, her eyes distant. Then slowly, as to not startle her, he wraps his other arm around her bare shoulders, his cape unfurling on her back. For a while they stood there, quiet and still, in the threshold between their separate worlds. The moments passed. Christine then, unexpectedly collapsed onto him. He caught her in his arms, his cape enveloping her like the darkness that had enveloped their souls. She gripped the fabric of his suit, her head pressed against his chest. Her eyes were shut tight.

He knew she was unaware of her actions, but he savored every moment. His hand lay on the back of her head, his fingers twirled her already curly, brown hair. He removed her tiara, and let it fall to the floor with a light clatter. Then he rested his head on top of hers, his mask touching her hair. Her soft, petite body against his own, cold and thin. Such sweet sensations. He couldn't remember feeling like this, not once in his entire life. It was almost too much for him to bear. He sighed in content, not wanting to let go. There was no chance she would be holding him, if she were fully alert. He very much desired her to embrace him as her full self, for _himself_, but he knew that was only a fantasy. Even with his plans tomorrow, he would have to keep her in this hypnotized state to take her down to his labyrinthine world, below the Paris Opera House. She would be too afraid of him.

Right now, she was not holding Erik, she was clinging onto her Angel of Music. A childish memory. And he would have to realize that was all he was to her, but he continued to lie to himself; that there was some small chance that she would love him as a man, and not as one of her father's stories. That he could have her forever, all to himself. He would need to learn to let her go, but he couldn't bear to lose her. For now, he would hold on to this dream, because that's all it would ever be.

**A/N: Yeah how lame is it that a song title was in there? Think of me. :P I didn't do it on purpose. I couldn't get around it. Also I think my title is pretty lame. Please review, and be brutally honest, but on my writing only. Yes I hate the 2004 movie, but don't hate me for it. Peace out!**


End file.
